The Island: Canto II. (Lord George Gordon Byron Poems)
I.How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai,When Summer's Sun went down the coral bay!Come, let us to the islet's softest ...
I.How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai,When Summer's Sun went down the coral bay!Come, let us to the islet's softest ...
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard;It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet ...
I.White as a white sail on a dusky sea,When half the horizon 's clouded and half free,Fluttering between the dun ...
I.The fight was o'er; the flashing through the gloom,Which robes the cannon as he wings a tomb,Had ceased; and sulphury ...
'It is the voice of years that are gone!they roll before me with all their deeds.'~OSSIANNewstead! fast-falling, once-resplendent dome! Religion's shrine! ...
Few years have pass'd since thou and I Were firmest friends, at least in name,And childhood's gay sincerity Preserved our feelings long ...
Parent of golden dreams, Romance! Auspicious Queen of childish joys,Who lead'st along, in airy dance, Thy votive train of girls and boys;At ...
'Tis done -- and shivering in the galeThe bark unfurls her snowy sail;And whistling o'er the bending mast,Loud sings on ...
One struggle more, and I am free From pangs that rend my heart in twain;One last long sigh to love and ...
Remember him, whom Passion's power Severely--deeply--vainly proved:Remember thou that dangerous hour, When neither fell, though both were loved.That yielding breast, that melting ...
O! had my Fate been join'd with thine, As once this pledge appear'd a token,These follies had not, then, been mine, For, ...
Time! on whose arbitrary wing The varying hours must flag or fly,Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring, But drag or drive us on ...
Ah! Love was never yet withoutThe pang, the agony, the doubt,Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh,While day and night ...
Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blueBright as thy mother's in their hue;Those rosy lips, whose dimples playAnd smile to ...
When Time, or soon or late, shall bringThe dreamless sleep that lulls the dead,Oblivion! may thy languid wingWave gently o'er ...
Thou art not false, but thou art fickle, To those thyself so fondly sought;The tears that thou hast forced to trickle Are ...
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